Men's Room
by MusingCalliope
Summary: Remus wears makeup, and Sirius has problems holding himself 'til he gets home.


**Title:** Men's Room

**Type:** Slash

**Pairing:** Remus/Sirius, MWPP-era.

**Rating:** PG-13, due to me being a wuss.

**Written:** At home in about half an hour.

**Warnings:** Run-on-sentences. And, uh, boy!smut.

**Words:** 714

Remus held his skin taut with his ring finger as he drew a thick, dark line under his eyelashes with a pencil. He then used the same finger to blend the kohl in, before running the pencil along the inner rim of his eye.

A sudden grunt from one of the stalls caused his hand to slip, jabbing the point of the pencil into his eye. He stifled a yelp, dropped the pencil, and stood rubbing his eye irritably for a moment, before bending over to retrieve it from the floor. Another grunt issued from the stall, followed by a sharp intake of breath. He chanced a glance under the stall door, and was met with the sight of two scuffed, large, black, very familiar boots.

The following sound -- a half-moan, quickly muffled -- sent shivers down Remus' spine. The kohl lying forgotten on the floor, he shuffled closer. Rapid breathing, and something... fabric, it was fabric rustling. He felt a slight swoon as all the blood left his brain, rushing to his cheeks, turning them a flaming red, and down into his pants, turning something there... well, not red, exactly. He cleared his throat softly, and then instantly regretted making a sound lest the other person heard him.

But the occupant of the stall seemed to be focused on other matters, and didn't give any sign to indicate they had noticed the tall boy with smoky eyes, flaming red cheeks and a growing bulge in his trousers leaning closer to the door. The grunts, moans and fabric rustling became more frequent and rushed, growing in intensity and desperation, until they suddenly ceased completely.

Remus took this as his cue, rapped on the door with his knuckles and called out, "Padfoot?"

"BLOODY HELL!"

The yell from the stall was a mix of frustration, irritation, and fury. Remus chuckled softly to himself, ignoring the now almost painful throbbing in his jeans, before asking curiously, "Do these stalls hold two?"

There was a pause, the sound of fabric being moved, a zipper closing rather quickly, and the lock being turned. Remus didn't even have time to open his mouth before Sirius was standing, holding the door open, sweaty and red-cheeked and mussed up hair and breathing heavily and (now the bulge in Remus' pants was almost too much to bear) a very definitive scowl.

"You'd better have a _bloody _good excuse for interrupting someone _right_ before he--"

He never finished his sentence. Remus had pressed his hands to his chest, shoving him back into the stall, quickly locking the door behind him. He leaned against the cool metal of the wall, and pulled Sirius against himself by his shirt collar, kissing him roughly whilst thrusting his hips forward. Sirius, not one to hesitate in such matters, grabbed Remus' hips and thrust back just as forcefully.

His gasp was muffled by the tongue pushing into his mouth, thrusting in time with their hips.

- - -

"So."

The toilet flushing wads of sticky toilet paper interrupted his sentence. He waited until it was finished, absent-mindedly buttoning his shirt.

"Was it a good enough excuse?" he asked when it had gone silent again.

Sirius looked up from buttoning his trousers and grinned, hair falling into his eyes in a way that gave Remus the sudden urge to push him up against the wall again.

But he didn't.

"Was it?" he pressed, suppressing a grin of his own, finishing with the buttons on his shirt.

"It was alright, I suppose," Sirius smirked, brushing past him out the door. Remus followed, bending over to pick up the pencil forgotten on the tiled floor. When he straightened up again, Sirius quickly leaned over and ran the tip of his tongue along his ear, whispering huskily, "...but you still owe me one when we get back to the castle."

His hand brushed casually over the front of Remus' jeans before he disappeared, laughing, out the bathroom door back into the club.

Remus glanced at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were still very red, his hair mussed and his skin sweaty. He could still feel the brush of Sirius' fingertips, and his tongue, and his

"Oh, for the love of--" he growled exasperatedly, before stumbling back into the stall.


End file.
